


Yellowed Letters

by DisneyPhantomlover



Series: False Protagonists [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Army of Three, Back when most of the main characters were friends, Drabbles, Gen, More tags will be added as things go on, Most of this takes place during the studio haydays, Sammy Wes, Sammy and joey and henry are friends, Up to ch 5 was written Pre-Chapter 3 of the game, a little christmas drabble, little snippets of the Sillyvision Crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyPhantomlover/pseuds/DisneyPhantomlover
Summary: Drabbles involving the Sillyvision Crew that I couldn't really fit in my main three works. But this will follow the timelines and interpetations of characters from "Lost Black Sheep", "The Creator's Puzzle Pieces", and "Dreams Come True".I AM accepting prompts and suggestions for drabbles. Mainly because these will be short little blurbs that are mainly for fun.





	1. When Wally met Sammy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions are very, very important. 
> 
> Wally... Unfortunately made a bad one on Sammy.

Wally Franks didn’t consider himself a particularly lucky individual. From his ginger hair to his sunken chest, to the fact he was the youngest of six kids and easy to overlook, he knew that he’d have a slightly rougher life. But he still had to wonder what had led up to this point.

This point being: carried outside like he was a bride, by a man who rivaled his own height. He’d tried kicking and squirming, and even insulting the man for good measure, but nothing had seem to work given the man’s surprising grip on his legs and back. The man carrying him- a willowy blond with ratty overalls- had a surprisingly serene face as he carried Wally, only stopping to kick open the front door. And without much fanfare, turned the corner the side of the building.

Really, all Wally’d done was ask where the real band was. Mr. Drew was showing him around the studio that he would work in, introducing him to different people who were as new as he was. And when he came across the music department, he’d seen a ragtag collection of street musicians -he recognized most of them as being friends from the factory he’d worked at before- practicing on stage. And certainly a studio like this had a real band right? One who wore suits and such to a performance and everything? Right? But SOMEHOW, this led to the banjo player plucking a wrong note before setting his instrument to the side. Then walking up to Wally and scooping him up like he weighed nothing and carrying him out. What made it worse was that no one had stopped him. Some had called out to him, telling him to “put the paddy down already” or “drop the kid and come back”, but no one had physically gotten up to stop him. Hell, he’d seen some particularly distracted animators duck around them.

Wally yelped as he felt gravity take over, and he landed in a metal trashcan. “OW!! GOD-.. FUCK!” His lankiness worked against him, and he practically folded in half as he slid into the empty trash can. He didn’t even have the leverage to pull himself out! All he could do was shift the can side to side and scream. So he did just that. “FUCK! HEY!! MOTHER FUCKER!”

The blond came back into view, a rather smug look on his face as he pulled a cigarette from behind his ear. “Oh. Sorry. Are you the real janitor? Couldn’t tell by your trash talking.”

If he wasn’t so pissed, he might’ve thought that funny. But he was pissed. “YEAH I AM. GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

“Mmmm… Nah.” The blond shrugged as he stepped out of view, leaving Wally to curse and scream in the trash can.

….

For a whole fifteen minutes.

It honestly felt longer, but Wally had to quit screaming when his voice went hoarse. And stop shifting back and forth when he knocked the damn can over. He was now folded in half, upside down, and starting to smell of the previous contents of the trash can. Sadly, he couldn’t call this one of his worse days. But it was starting to climb into the top five the longer he was there.

He couldn’t believe how thankful he was when he heard his new boss calling for him. “FRANKS?? FRANKS, YOU OUT HERE??”

“On the side of the building, Mr. Drew!!”

He should’ve been embarrassed, but quite honestly, he was just glad to see his boss’s legs and cane come into view. “Where the HELL have you-…. Oh.” Whatever Mr. Drew had been ready to scold him for immediately died in his throat as he leaned down and looked at Wally in the trash. “…I take it you didn’t stuff yourself in there, did you?”

The urge to spit a biting remark was strong. SO STRONG. But… He was hired this morning, and he’d rather not be fired just as quickly. “No sir.”

“Crap… I’ll go get someone to pull you out of there… Who even dumped you in there??”

“I don’t know! It was this blond smoker guy. Real g-gr-grr-grump.” He quietly cursed his stutter coming back just then, making him seem more foolish. Quite a feat given the current circumstances.

That seemed to stop Joey in his tracks, and he leaned down again to Wally’s frame of vision. “Was he the banjo player with the overalls?”

“Yeah!” That’d been the man who stopped plucking his instrument before hoisting him up like he was nothing. “Real charmer, I’ll say that…”

Joey Drew gave a little grimaced smile as he bobbed his head. “You could say that… That’s the studio’s Music Director. He’s got… a bit of a temper.”

There was a beat of silence before Wally could remark. “A b-b-bit of an unn-…Understatement, Mistah Drew.”

Joey Drew gave a small sigh, standing up straight again. “Hang tight, Wally. I can’t pull you out, but I’m going to get someone to help, okay? Okay.” He quickly shuffled out of view, and Wally started to wiggle his feet as he waited. He was starting to lose feeling in his legs when he felt his world go sideways again. And he got acquainted with the ground as someone upturned the trash can and Wally could only slide out to the asphalt. Somehow, the pins-and-needles feeling he felt in his legs was stronger  than the feeling of grit scratching his face, and he fell to the side before groaning and rubbing his legs furiously.

As if his day couldn’t get worse, he only had to look up and see who helped him out of the trash can.

“Sammy, I said to help him out. Not upturn him like a bag of floor, you moron.” Joey was standing to the side, glowering at the blond man who was setting the trash can upright.

“Seemed the best way to get him out.” That cigarette he’d pulled out earlier was now only half it’s original length, smoldering as it hung out of the musician’s mouth. He didn’t seem to wither at Joey Drew’s impressive glare, and was actually smirking, the bastard!

Wally could already tell he was going to dislike this Sammy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I'm surprised these two ended up being friends later on. But yeah. Wally. Choose your words better next time.))


	2. Murray Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one said he was from here.
> 
> And certainly no one said he wasn't a creation as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I will fully admit that this was completely and totally self-indulgent drabble. Mainly because I can't help but see Murray Hill as the reason things went to hell. Or at least it being a joint effort between him and Joey Drew. 
> 
> So I am using a bit of my original material in this... But it made a lot of sense as I wrote this. -shrug- ))

I guess I should preface this by admitting something about myself. Something that is either a given, or shocking, given how things are in this world.

I am human.

.... Yes, yes, I know. Utterly shocking.

But what if I told you I wasn't born? Not in a traditional sense anyways. I wasn't conceived by other humans, and I was never a child. I had no parents, because I wasn't born like a human normally should be. My birth was not an ordeal that took nine months in a womb. And I didn't develop into the man I am now over years and years of first-hand experience.... Not initially.

My conception was a name written on a paper napkin. Minor details about my abilities or personalities written in the corner. Over a period of three months, more was added to my personality and description, some was changed... My story was expanded on and written. Re-written over and over again… All with the flourish of a pen. And when I was born? I was born as a man in his 30's, with abilities very dissimilar to my Creator’s.

I remember... Not much. Just one day, I was here. My Creator, a beautiful and talented Writer, told me I was made because they wanted someone so interesting, so fantastic, and they'd wanted me.... It's strange feeling being told you were always wanted. Not a bad feeling, don't get me wrong, but still strange. I was wanted... Not only because I could do things other humans couldn't, but because my Creator had written an entire story about me. How I could make deals with other humans, be they amazing or mundane, and watch as they fulfilled or broke their deals.

I was a cautionary tale. A needed one, given how the world seemed to hinge on little connections based on word of mouth. A handshake here, a promise there…. The world depended on it, and I was the reason to be cautious of being too overzealous or cavalier of those handshakes and promises.

See... Where I am from originally, my existence isn't necessarily a strange occurrence. There's Creators who can bring their Creations to life. Their names vary from region to region, but for the sake of this explanation, I shall stick with Creations and Creators. Creators in my realm were persecuted for a long time, but rarely the Creations. I suppose it was far easier to blame those who could write, draw, paint, sculpt.... Make art, and inevitably watch it flicker into a living thing. The Creations... Not as much. So many of us are able to hide and even more don't know they're Creations for a long time. I knew only because my Creator was nearby. I wasn’t in my story’s world when I came into being.

But my Creator... My Creator was a writer. Able to weave plots and stories in their mind, and sometimes, those stories would become real. Characters from those stories, like me, would become real. I was as real as they were when I appeared in their bedroom.

...

I don't know how, or even why I left my world. One moment, I was in my own. The next, I was in another. One without Creators... And without Creations like me.

I've been here so long... I've almost forgotten what my Creator was like. I gave up trying to return home after only a few years. Not because I didn’t miss it, because I did. I missed my home in all its fantastical and bizarre glory….

But I can see the potential here.

There’s so many chances for there to be Creators. I recognize a few names from my own world... And I want to make them real. If I can’t come back to my own world, then I will bring my world here.

I already have a new name here. I made it myself. "Murray Hill". And while I was written as a sort of supernatural deal maker, I was also written with a gift for mechanics. I can sneak into places, work on the sides, and start making this world in a familiar image.

I can start with this one studio.

It has a small demon as a mascot. Rather adorable…. Very, very familiar to a Creation from my original world. A few of them, but the one that immediately comes to mind is a mouse. Or his brother, a rabbit. And the studio owner’s name… He has such a simple, but distinct name.

Joey Drew….

I wonder…

Would he be able to be a Creator?

Could he handle the fantasy made real?

….

Well. Nothing a small deal can’t make real.


	3. Voices and Whistles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little slice of life of the studio when things were still easy-going. 
> 
> Mainly involving the voice acting that the cartoons had at first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Firstly, yes, this was completely inspired by the Chapter 3 trailer that showed today. That little animation was cute as heck and the game preview was great and terrifying!
> 
> I am still sticking to my headcanon that 1) Joey was the original voice for Bendy, and 2) Sammy Wes enjoys carrying people around in the studio. I don't know why I like these so much, but I do.))

Not many know this, but Joey Drew was originally against being the voice of Bendy the Dancing Demon. He didn’t think his voice was good for a more innocent or carefree demon, and had tried to convince the Music Director/Sound Expert to find someone else.

His arguing had been less than successful since it still ended with Sammy Lawrence hauling Joey Drew over his shoulder and dragging him down to his combined office-room. And after a solid hour of bickering between the two, Joey had left in a huff, Sammy had a smug grin on his face, and there was a recording tape that was marked “Bendy- Episode 1- Voice”.

But, as time went on and more shorts were done, Joey had gotten more comfortable with being Bendy’s voice. Mainly because he didn’t need to speak. The little demon’s design wasn’t made for actual speaking yet, but they still needed a type of sound appropriate for a constantly smiling demon. And Sammy had suggested whistling.

It just needed to be Joey’s whistling.

He always had a knack for the pitch, and since he was one of the main animators, knew exactly how Bendy would sound in each scene. Whether it was a wheezing kind of laugh, an angry huff, a startled squeal, or an exhausted sigh, Joey knew how to express it with a little air through his teeth and lips.

Didn’t mean that Joey liked being drug down to the Music Department or recording studio. And he really did mean “drug”; despite the thin appearance, Sammy Wes had a surprising grip and seemed to get sick joy out of picking him up and carrying him. Joey had thought at first it was Sammy poking fun at his limited movement, but it happened on both good and bad days with pain. And, if he was honest, he could tolerate the carrying once he learned it was Sammy’s way of making sure he was in the right place. Like in a bed or his chair instead of asleep on a desk. Or in the recording booth instead of blocking up a stairway.

And it helped that Sammy did the same thing to Henry. Carrying him off from a desk if he was working too hard, or hauling the man to a kitchen if he hadn’t eaten for a few hours. And as more people were hired on, one could find Sammy randomly picking up other studio members like Susie Campbell, or the new organist Johnny. He’d seen Sammy carry off Wally Franks a few times as well, the red-head putting up a decent fight each and every time.

But now, it was Joey’s turn. He was slung under Sammy’s left arm like a sack of potatoes, the Music Director taking care going down the stairs so he wouldn’t knock Joey’s feet against each stair. It was appreciated, even if the ride was not.

“Just need a few sounds for this new one. And no, I’m not going as Boris. I told Wally to try him out.”

Feeling just a little bit ornery, Joey did the one thing he could do. Give a grumpy-sounding whistle.

“…Look. I’m not going as Boris. Wally looks more like him anyways.”

Another huff of a whistle was Joey’s response.

That got Sammy to stop and glower down at his boss for a minute. “…Are you just going to whistle the rest of the day?”

….. Joey thought about it for a minute, then gave a short, clipped whistle in response. If he was going to be stuck in a recording booth, then damn it, he was at least going to get enjoyment out of annoying Sammy Lawrence.

He dutifully spent the needed two hours in the recording booth, rehearsing his “lines” before outright whistling with the beat of the storyboards. He’d even played nice with Wally, who did surprisingly good grumbles and huffs for Boris. Nothing to write home about, for either of them, but it was stylized enough to work, and the deadline was soon. The janitor was at least decent enough to hold the door open for Joey, and patient enough to not shove him out of the recording booth when he stumbled over a threshold.

Wally was rubbing his throat a little, and he turned to face Joey. “That was kinda bad on my throat… You want some water, Boss?”

Joey whistled an affirmative, licking his now-dry lips after the fact.

“….” Wally looked over to the booth, curious if the microphone was still recording or not. “…Um…. We ain’ r-r-recordin’ na-now…”

Joey nodded, a slight gleam of mischief in his green eyes and the twist of his smile.

Before Wally could question it, Sammy had marched over to the band, waving a few sheets of music above his head. “OKAY! Practice over. Give this a few minutes of sight-reading, and we’ll rehearse at quarter after, ON THE DOT!” The harried Music Director was handing out music sheets to the band members before glancing around frantically. “SHIT, where’s Norman??”

Joey gave a little shrug, whistling his confusion.

The sound alone got Sammy to snap his head around and glower at his friend. “… Did you nitwits manage to finish recording?”

Wally had been ready to speak, but Joey had spoken first. Or at least whistled an affirmative, accompanied by a bright smile.

The look of disdain on Sammy’s face spoke was worth the dry lips and dry mouth that plagued Joey all day. Even more so when Wally had gotten wise on the prank, and spoke in wolfish grumbles and huffs all day.


	4. Tempers Flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sammy and Wally both have bad days and end up having a fight. 
> 
> Which ends rather hilariously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I just want to wholeheartedly thank phantomthief_fee here on Ao3 for helping inspire this chapter. I really was having a heck of a time writing this one.
> 
> Also, I do have a feral cat I'm slowly rehabilitating named Sugar. He's a damn sweetheart.))

It was a surprisingly slow day at Joey Drew Studios that day. Mainly because they had just barely scraped by on a deadline that morning. A new short would be showing that night in the theaters, and both Henry Ross and Joey Drew would be attending the nearby theater to try and gauge the audience. So, by all accounts, it should have been the lull after the storm.

But, had anyone mentioned so inside the studio, they would most likely burst out laughing. Whether out of actual amusement or as a way to show their nervousness. This was because of two very important reasons.

Wally Franks and Sammy Lawrence.

Now, contrary to what many believed, the two men got along pretty well. They’d had a rocky start for sure, but after a month and a now fired animator intern, the two could be considered friendly to the other. Nothing was said outright, of course, but Sammy could be seen cleaning up one of the floors of the studio when the janitor was on a different floor. And Wally could be found cleaning or polishing instruments when he thought Sammy or Norman wasn’t looking.

But that week beforehand had been rather trying for both men.

In addition to a musician who had gotten a stomach flu that Monday and gotten sick all over a wall, that Tuesday, a different musician had gotten a nosebleed of surprisingly epic proportions. That Wednesday had further pushed Wally into a stuttering mess as three more musicians had gotten the stomach flu. Obviously, it was his fault since he “hadn’t cleaned up that area proper”. He knew otherwise because those musicians in particular shared a meal at least once a day… But no. No. To add to the increasing workload, a feral cat had snuck into the studio without anyone’s knowledge during that last week. Gave the Irish janitor the scare of his life when he’d opened a broom closet and a terrified black and white blur had launched for his face. The rest of that week, animators would yell at Wally for clumps of fur found under desks, or allergic voice actors screaming at him for the mere presence of a cat in the studio. And no amount of canned tuna or saucers of milk seemed to tempt the damn thing to go back out the door. He’d nearly torn his hair out when he saw the fluffy monstrosity sitting on Henry Ross’s lap, content and docile as a proper domesticated animal. It was even asleep!

Needless to say, Henry had a new cat after that week.

And Sammy. Sammy Wes Lawrence.

The man was already a sharp-tongued individual. But looming deadlines seemed to get the best of him. Having four musicians out with the stomach flu had tested his limited patience, and he’d had to re-write some of the music that hadn’t been recorded yet. That Thursday, Norman Polk had informed him that the audio for the voice actors had been ripped to shreds. Apparently by some mangy cat that snuck into the studio. So he’d quite literally drug the voice actors to the recording booth, including Joey Drew and Susie Campbell. And, that Friday, the day of the actual deadline, the worst thing possible for that day had happened.

He’d run out of cigars.

Completely and totally.

His boxes were empty, and the few cigarette cartons he’d kept in his office desk were missing. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sending an intern or Norman out to replace them, so he’d spent his lunch break running down to the nearest store. Said store was completely out of his favorite vice; something about a missed shipment or a dead truck. Sammy couldn’t concentrate enough to remember the details. He barely had enough time to run back to the studio before his break was up. One would think being a founding member of the damn studio would give him benefits, like a longer break time. It did not.

Which meant that now Sammy Lawrence was nicotine free for much longer than necessary, and starving because he hadn’t eaten all day. Not a good combination for a man who was renown for his ability to start fist fights.

So, that Friday night, once the dust had settled for the animated short, the two men were left to their own devices.

Their own devices found both men in the break room. Sammy’s mood hadn’t improved, and he was getting tempted to bum a cigarette from literally anyone. Wally was close to falling over given how bad his back hurt, and was slumped over a chair.

It had started fairly tame enough. “Hey Franks. You finally get rid of that cat?”

Wally almost felt like a cat himself, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the mere memory of the animal. “YES. Henry named it ‘Sugar’ and took it home.” His tone was a little more sharp than usual, and he leveled a small glare at the Music Director. “You finally stop carrying everyone like a damn weight lifter?”

“Not my fault people don’t move fast as I need them.” Sammy snapped back, reaching for his pocket. The gesture was out of habit, but he grumbled anew when he was reminded he didn’t have something to smoke. “….Dammit. You have a cigarette on you?”

“No. Why d-d-don’tcha ask Mistah Ross?”

“Because he doesn’t have any on him.” The blond man grumbled, his bad mood only intensifying as he opened up the cupboards. “….What the hell??”

Wally barely had the energy to look over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Wat’cha pissed abou’ now?”

“The fuck happened to the food in here, Franks??” He made a helpless gesture at the cupboard he had opened up. Usually there was at least cans of tuna or sardines or the like in here. Nothing super tasty, but it would be something in his stomach.

“The damn cat ate through those, Lawrence.” Despite his tone, Wally did feel a mixture of guilt with his frustration. He would need to stop by a store and buy something to replace those.

Said guilt dissipated when Sammy slammed the cupboard door shut with a punctuated “FUCK!” Then continued with “You better fucking replace those, Franks. Outta your own damn paycheck too!”

“Fuck YOU, Lawrence!” Well, now he wasn’t going to replace them. Simply out of principle, thank you very much.

Now, Sammy was close to yelling something in response. His temper was flaring and he could feel the last threads of patience unraveling. But, something held him back. Instead, he took a deep breath and held it. Count to ten, Lawrence. Just count slowly… One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand- “That reminds me. I had to throw out the cartons you had in your desk drawer.”

Wally Franks didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He was going to apologize, mentioning how he’d found an upturned inkwell on his desk, which had ruined a bunch of things in the Music Director’s drawer. Including the cigarettes, but it’d also ruined a few keys and the cover of a book.

“YOU DID WHAT??” Sammy Wes had spun around so fast, his voice impressively loud. “WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?”

“They were full of INK, ya dense fuck!” Wally finally started to stand up, just so he didn’t feel so towered by the Music Director. “Just g-g-go to the fffuckin’ store ‘n get some more!”

“I FUCKING TRIED THAT, FRANKS. I MISSED LUNCH GOIN’ THERE.” Sammy’s arms were flapping wildly around as he yelled, proving he had some Italian blood in him to talk with his hands so wildly. Wally was quickly making it to the end of his own rope of patience. However, he simply threw up his hands in deference to one of his bosses, and was about to turn heel and walk off before he lost his temper. “HOW ABOUT YOU GO TO THE DAMN STORE THEN, YA GINGER SHIT?!”

That was it.

Wally turned right back around, yelling back in Sammy Lawrence’s face. “Gabh Transna Ort Fhéin!!”

Sammy barely recoiled from the outburst, leaning forward as he started up. “Wanna go, shithead?!”

The ensuing yelling match went on for a surprising five minutes. It was a shame that most of the animators had left for the evening, they would’ve been amazed at how colorful the two men had gotten. Some brave musicians had snuck to Joey Drew’s office, honestly concerned that the two would start a fight in the breakroom and wanting to have the power of the Studio Head there to settle things down. It was even better when they’d found the Head Animator in the office as well. Both reassured the musicians that they would go and check on the two loud men in the breakroom, and promptly walked to the break room.

They had made it for the last minute or so of yelling.

Both Sammy and Wally were breathless, glaring the other down as their tempers were still high. The fact that neither had resorted to throwing fists was a downright miracle. After a minute of tense silence, Sammy made the first move. But instead of crawling over the table and throttling Wally like he’d threatened, he’d merely knocked a chair back with a loud slam. Then he was stomping out of the break room. He almost made it to the stairs, about to grab his wallet and keys from his office. But he was stopped by one of the weirder sights he’d seen in his two years of working at Joey Drew Studios.

Henry Ross, wearing such a smug expression on his face that he almost didn’t recognize the man, was holding a hand out to Joey Drew. The black-haired man was scowling at his friend, balancing himself on a crutch as he dug his free hand in his back pocket. Without a word, Joey had pulled out a white leather wallet and threw it to Henry. “Wipe that expression of ya face, Ross. Smugness doesn’t suit ya.” Henry made no reply, catching the wallet easily and opening it up before thumbing out a few loose bills.

“…..The hell?” Sammy made a helpless gesture at his two friends, and almost regretted asking “Thought you hate anyone touching that wallet. What gives?”

Joey sulked against his crutch, averting his eyes from the remaining Army of Three. So Henry answered instead. “Joey bet that you or Wally were going to throw fists. I bet you weren’t.”

“…You two are the damn devil, know that?” He pushed by Henry, making his way down the stairs. “AND YES, you’re worse than our damn cartoon!” 

That evening, Henry was able to buy a few more snacks than usual when he and Joey went to the theater. But, the animator decided to be diplomatic as well, using his own money to pay for some snacks to restock the break room. Technically it was his cat that started most of this trouble. 


	5. What Could've Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Joey is trapped in the Ink Machine, he thinks about what could've been. How he imagined Henry coming back to the studio.

It wasn’t meant to be this way. 

Never. 

Henry was supposed to come back. Wally was supposed to be successful turning into a toon. Susie was supposed to be happy and willing to change. Sammy was supposed to follow his plans… It wasn’t supposed to end with him floating in the Ink Machine like this. Being stuck in this kind of purgatory. He was not alive, but he wasn’t dead…. Not yet. But two of his Creations were on the verge of death; Boris transfixed on a silver screen and Alice locked in a room with what remained of Susie. And Bendy… Bendy was here in the machine with him. Both of them nothing but remains and ink. 

It wasn’t meant to be like this. 

 

And, sometimes, if he let his mind wander… 

 

He could picture what it could’ve been like. 

 

If what Murray Hill had told him was possible had worked, and his sacrifices had not been in vain.

 

 

 

If something had gone right.

 

If just one...single thing...went right. 

* * *

“ Alright Joey. I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.” Henry walked over the threshold of the front door, looking almost the same as he did nearly twenty five years  ago. A little thicker, a few wrinkles, but none the worse for wear as he entered the studio. The war had hardly affected him at all by the look of him. When he looked around, giving a low whistle at the appearance of Sillyvision Studio’s front room. Bustling people ran from room to room, while others sat at the long desks to draw or write. A few stopped to look up at the stranger in the studio, but most went right back to their work. Deadlines were looming after all. And no one wanted to be yelled at or berated for lagging behind. 

Being ignored didn’t bother Henry much. He knew where to find Joey. No doubt the man was in his office, or at least near it. And it’d be nice to see his friend after so long...

He’d barely made it past the stairs when he heard a rather loud scream from downstairs. The shock had made him jump, although it was closely followed by a very familiar voice barking out “GODDAMMIT BENDY!!”

Henry would be confused, but curious. WIth a light hum, he started down the stairs, passing by a few tired interns on his way to the music department. No one would stop the older gentleman from making it to the refurbished floor. Mostly because they wanted to be somewhere else when Mr. Lawrence was on a rampage. Once he was on the Music Department’s level, he would be able to follow the sounds of a chase, accompanied by damningly familiar cackling and Sammy Wes’s barking. A black blur ran in front of the Music Department’s mural, skidding to try and round the corner to the stairs that led to the projector room. Sammy’s long frame was right behind the blur, grabbing the corner to swing himself around the corner much faster. 

The cackling stopped on a dime, followed by a honking sound. It would only make more sense once Sammy came back into view, holding what looked like a giant Maine Coon by the scruff. Now that he wasn’t running, Henry could see that the Music Director’s head was covered in ink, about to stain his pale hair and already ruining his dress shirt. Somehow, the white pants and suspenders he had on were untouched by the ink. It was a comical sight, and Sammy was scolding the poor cat as they came back around the corner. “That’s THREE TIMES. THREE TIMES THIS WEEK!!” He brought his other hand around, fiercely pointing to the cat. “AND Don’t tell me it’s all Bendy in there, I can see those green eyes of your’s, Joey.” 

And that was the very second that Henry would realize that the cat was not a cat. It was, in fact, a living version of the Devil Darling himself! 

“ **_Awww, cmon Sammy~! It was funny!_ ** ”

“I can take only so much of this damn ink, you two.” He pointed to his face, the ink dripping off his nose and down his grizzled cheeks. Just as he was about to go into another tirade, he noticed the man standing only a few feet away. He straightened up immediately, setting Bendy back to the floor. “Henry?!” 

The little toon was on the floor, his notched green eyes blinking a few times before his face split into a wide smile. “ **_Henry Ross… Ya really came back._ ** ” 

Henry would’ve been struck dumb, mouth gaping open like a fish. Staring at the moving cartoon in front of him with Joey’s voice. 

Bendy would’ve realized what the confusion was about, and pulled out a cane from behind his back before leaning on it. “ **_There we go. Recog’ize me now?_ ** ”

“....Joey? Is that….”

Sammy would pipe up then, pulling a rag from his front pocket and starting to clean his glasses. “Yep. That’s Joey. Ya should see how Wally and Susie look.” A smile would play across his lips as he mopped the ink from his face. “It’s a bit of a shock. I know it was for me.”

Bendy would cackle a little, now relying on the cane to support his weight as he walked up to Henry and held out a hand. “ **_I’ll explain it to ya, Ross. But don’t worry… I know what I’m doin’!_ ** ”

* * *

 

….

He knew what he was doing. 

That’s why he’d done what he had. Why he sacrificed so much and so many...

…

But this fantastical dream wouldn’t be what happened. 

Wally… Wally wasn’t a toon. He was the first of many ink creatures, constantly searching for something that could never be found. His mind decomposing and his memory losing coherency. 

Susie wasn’t a toon either. She was a decomposing body that was locked in a room with the remaining ink of Alice Angel. 

Sammy was here, but he was nothing but a walking corpse. Trapped in the studio because ink from the Ink Machine kept him alive, and kept him tethered to the studio. He was losing his mind. 

And then there was himself… 

 

He was in the Ink Machine. 

All his work was for nothing. 

He could’ve had it all. And all he wanted was to bring his toons to live. To make the impossible possible. 

 

He wanted so much. 

  
  


His work was never enough. 

 

Maybe it was a good thing he was in this sick purgatory. He couldn't cry in a tank of ink like this. 

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a presence by his side. The only other creature in this incredible machine, trying to lean against him. “ **_Joey?_ ** ”

He mimicked the motion of sighing, asking “ _ What’s wrong Bendy? _ ”

“ **_Nuthin’... Jus’... Really tired._ ** ” 

“ _...Me too, Bendy. Me too. _ ”

 

Joey Drew was just tired. He wanted to say he was sorry nothing had worked like he planned... But what good were those apologies now? 


	6. ((Announcement for October 7th))

((So this isn't a new chapter, I'm sorry to say.

But there's a few updates coming up now.

I was able to play BATIM Chapter 3 and the updates before the patch came out, and thanks to inspiration from [Kitkatzgr8 here on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatzgr8/pseuds/Kitkatzgr8), I did record a letsplay of it. It was surprising fun!

[Chapters 1 and 2 updated](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5s10Ei_wJ-g&t=67s)   
[Chapter 3](https://youtu.be/7CvnqQPr33s)

And for the main announcement.

I'm going to be updating Lost Black Sheep, The Creator's Puzzle Pieces, and Dreams Come True to reflect things we found out in Chapter 3. Not ridiculously much, but there is going to be enough there. And maybe even a new chapter or two.

But I have not abandoned these works, and heck, even feel spurred on to write more.

Thank you for your time, and thanks for reading!))


	7. The Army of Three's First Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is officially a two-parter because I needed something ridiculously cute for the holiday.

Joseph Bartholomew Drew never really enjoyed the holiday seasons when he was younger. Sure, it was pleasant that his parents calmed down slightly to keep a nice atmosphere, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the presents and traditions. But... It always felt forced and fake to him. Getting a tree because it was expected, going to extravagant parties because you had to keep up appearances... The whole thing lost its appeal years ago. He was actually a little grateful when he was accepted to Corcoran, because now he had more reason to be away from his mother and father. He could spend the holiday however he wanted.

But, then he suggested Henry Ross move in with him. The man had come from a home-grown family that celebrated Christmas, and he'd brought his enthusiasm with him. Joey never expected to come to their apartment one day to find a small tree in the living room. He'd rolled his eyes at it, and at his friend trying to decorate the scraggly plant with popcorn and baubles. He'd left his friend to his decorating, and instead worked on drawing for his finals. Henry still wasn't done by the time Joey finished, which left the disabled man in charge of dinner. He may have barked something callous to Henry about being pushed into doing dinner because he was playing around. Looking back on it, it was not one of his more mature moments. And he'd felt like he'd kicked a puppy off a bridge when Henry had shut up and stopped decorating. It'd taken a little bit of talking over watered-down eggnog for Joey to realize that Henry was home-sick. And that he felt awful he was missing typical Christmas traditions with his family.

It astounded Joey to find out that Henry's family was a traditional one, and that his best friend was surprisingly sincere when it came to holidays. He loved finding and decorating a tree because when else could you bring a giant plant into your house and play with it? When else did you get a chance to go out of your way to make presents, cards, treats, or just great food to share with others? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that everyone was just a little extra depressed around wintertime, but having such a build-up to a fun holiday was that little light at the end of the tunnel.

So, Joey decided to do right by Henry. That next day he'd gone to the grocer that Henry worked at, and made sure to get the best cornish game hens he could find. As well as some other things like cocoa powder, milk, and chesnuts, but the hens were important! He wasn't able to get Henry to check him out, but he'd made as big a fuss as he could! And he knew he saw Henry watch him walk out the door, bags in hand. He made sure that Henry knew they'd have a Christmas dinner.

Christmas Day for the two was spent in that little apartment, exchanging little gifts and drawings for each other, sharing a great dinner, and getting a little of moonshine to sip at into the night.

Joey had to admit, he'd liked it. It was one of his favorite memories of the over-blown holiday, and he would be grateful to Henry for years to come for such a gift.

The next year was full of excitement and a blur of papers. Henry and he had graduated from Corcoran! He'd bought the old factory as a studio, and they'd moved in! He'd even gotten a new friend in Sammy Lawrence, who he'd found playing on the street. Together, they were the Army of Three. Able to make a cartoon that aired in theaters back in October, starring a little dancing demon. With the best artwork in the world, and the best music to accompany it.

He'd honestly not realized that it was December until Henry had walked into his makeshift office, asking if it was okay if they could celebrate Christmas in the studio.

"Are you kidding?? We live here, Henry! Where else could we celebrate?!"

He enjoyed seeing such a smile on his best friend's face, and it did his heart good seeing Henry draw so fast that day.

The weird part came that evening, when Henry was pulling on a coat and had called for Sammy. "Hey! You mind coming with, Lawrence? I'm going to get a tree for the studio. May need those big arms of yours to move it in!" The man looked so excitable, which was such a rarity it needed to be photographed.

Sammy had just stared at Henry with a strange, unreadable expression, and shook his head. "Sorry. Can't."

Henry's face fell ever so slightly, and Joey had to intervene at that point. He'd shuffled over, hooked an arm over Sammy's shoulders, and stayed there. Honestly, he considered that a feat with how tall the bastard was. "Oh come oooonnnn, Lawrence! I'm going, so that means all us go. Okay?"

Sammy had almost fought it, but he couldn't dislodge Joey that easily. So he gave up with a forced "Okay, okay."

They'd made it to a Christmas tree lot, letting Henry bolt around and look for the right tree. Sammy was in charge of being Joey's crutch for the evening given how bad his leg was in the cold, so they hung back by the entrance. And that's when Sammy admitted "I don't like this stupid holiday."

He'd shrugged, leaned a little harder against the blond, and calmly retorted "I'm not a huge fan either. A little too flashy, and a little too... I don't know, required? ...But that's just me. You?"

"I mean it. I don't like it." Sammy spat out, his hand going into his jacket pocket and scrounging around for a cigarette.

His curiosity got the better of him. "Why?"

"I told you I was in an orphanage, right?"

He nodded, regretting his incessant need to ask.

"Well... The church I was in? They made a huge thing out of adopting out us kids during December. Like we were presents to be given out at the tree. ... If you were unlucky like me, you get a pity present at Christmas Mass and a lecture from the abbess." He'd finally found a cigarette and placed it behind his ear, looking for a lighter in a different pocket. "I just... Never liked it. I was obviously not good enough or worth enough to be given anything but pity." He'd pulled out his lighter after a moment, but he didn't try to light his nicotine stick. Instead, he'd motioned to the tree lot, where Henry was starting to haggle with the salesman. "...Guess Ross likes the holiday though?"

"...Yeah. He adores it."

Sammy snorted once, and Joey could see his expression shift to something rather sad. "...Well. I can pretend to be into it for him. That's what you're doing, right?"

Joey shrugged a little, looking away from Sammy and finding a bit of snow on the ground rather interesting.

That evening, he watched as Henry and Sammy decorated the tree in the front room. Henry was grinning ear to ear as he threaded popcorn together and placed strings around the tree, and Sammy smiled as he put little trinkets on the branches. It was so...conflicting seeing his friends like this. Not Ross, he was rarely so exhuberent and happy, and he loved seeing him like this. But Sammy, obviously trying to be happy but unable to... It twisted a knot in his stomach. He couldn't focus on his drawing at all. So Joey had taken over popcorn-threading, and Henry helped with decorating the tree. Sammy left after a bit, going to their makeshift kitchen with promise of making something for dinner.

And that's when Joey snagged his best friend by the shirt, pulled him down, and they hatched a plan.


	8. Army of Three's First Christmas, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the other shoe dropping with more cute. 
> 
> I feel a little bad this is late, but this was a busy time of year for me.

Sammy was honestly not expecting much come December 25th.

Despite his bitterness and his anger towards the season... He still liked making others happy. This was a perfect excuse to do such a thing. And no one batted an eye at an unmarked present at a desk during the end of the year...

By some miracle, and exactly twelve cups of coffee, he'd finished buying and making little gifts, and even placed them in stragetic areas in Joey Drew Studios. He was a little proud to know that no suspected the mysterious gift-giver as the grumpy Music Director. He'd heard Wally's shout of joy the second he'd opened the closet door, and had to hide his smile when the ginger danced by the window, a new cigar box and bubble gum jar in his hands. Susie had waltzed by with a new scarf around her neck, babbling excitedly to him about finding it in the recording studio. And he knew that Grant had enjoyed his own gift; the accountant smelled faintly of the bourbon that he'd managed to find. Joey hadn't said anything, but Sammy saw the little stitched Bendy toy in his vest pocket. It was worth every penny he'd paid to Wally's friend to make that. Henry hadn't said anything about his gift, but he'd seen the man take bites of freshly made almond brittle as he drank from a brand new mug.

His good deeds were done. And he expected nothing else. No gifts for him, no fancy dinners... Maybe he'd go to a candle light service at the nearby church. But that was the extent of it. Right now, he wanted to sleep. It was a season-appropriate miracle they'd managed to get "Snow Sillies" done on time. Even better was that the short would be showing in the theaters all day on Christmas! All the families that wanted to watch movies today would see a dancing demon first. That thought warmed him more then he could say.

Expecting nothing, he was nothing short of surprised when he woke up on Decemeber 25th and found both Henry and Joey in his office room. Both of them with wide grins on their faces.

"....Hiiiiii." He leveled a glare at the two, suddenly self conscious about how he looked. Fresh out of his cot, not shaved, messy clothes... He looked a sight compared to the prim and proper Joey. And even Henry, who was wearing his own Sunday best.

"Merry Christmas, Lawrence." Henry spoke first, leaning against the door as a wide grin split his face in two.

".....Merry Christmas." Sammy blinked a little, parroting the phrase. "...Don't you have folks to spend it with?"

Henry waved a hand at first before answering. "And spend a fortune on getting to Utah and back? Not this year." He stepped forward, opening the door and offering a hand to Joey in one smooth motion. "Now get dressed! We're leavin' in an hour!"

Joey took the offered hand, swinging up and following Ross out the door. "Be sure to look nice!" The door slammed behind them, and Sammy blinked.

That was never a good sign when both Ross and Drew were grinning like their little devil. But Sammy had spent Christmas in an alley last year. Maybe spending it with his friends would be okay this year.

* * *

Exactly two hours later, Sammy Wes Lawrence was literally two inches from crying.

It was stupid, he knew it was... But it was also the first time he'd ever had something like this. His best friends on either side of him, a brand new jacket on his shoulders, and a hot dinner in front of him. Apparently he was not as sneaky as he thought. Joey had thanked him and snuck him a flask of alcohol, Henry had given him a one-armed hug and asked him how he learned to make sweets.

They'd gone to a church, but the service hadn't really been what Sammy expected. It was calm, reverent. The pastor was kind and thanked those who came, and it didn't have that same money-grabbing feel that other churches he'd been in had. The songs were soft, the candles warm, and Sammy genuinely felt proud that he'd memorized most of the prayers used that evening and could speak them honestly.

The restaurant they were in was a little family-style place, only open because the owners and at least three of the staff inside were friends of Joey Drew. They had all the fixings for huge meal set right at the table... Ham, cranberries, stuffing, walnuts, some potato dish that Sammy couldn't recognize... Actually he couldn't recognize half the stuff in front of him; he'd never had such a meal before. Only saw the images in movies and cards. But all this food was for them. The three of them.

He pulled a hand up, roughly wiping at his eyes as his friends spoke around him.

This really was a great gift.

He was so glad to be friends with such two caring men.


	9. The Projectionist and the Lil Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got this prompt from Rocketman23 a while ago:   
> Prompt; smol bean boy bendy meets the projectionist (bonus points if you get a hug in!)
> 
> Still love this, so here it is updated and on AO3.

Bendy told himself this was a bad idea.

He knew it was a bad idea to start off with. Not only would Joey be upset… But it was difficult going to the lower floors. Had been since Mrs. Hagen had been left down there. And then there was the strange Butcher Gang copies that haunted the lower floors and liked attacking him.

He wouldn’t have done it at all, except for one thing: Joey was going to be busy. He’d asked Bendy to hide out again, something about inviting another human to the Studio. Apparently this one had been a close friend, and Joey said he wanted some alone time with him. So he had the means to sneak down to the merchandising floor. And if he was careful, he could run to the lift! He could avoid Mrs. Hagen posing as Alice, and even the Butcher Gang copies. He just needed to be quick on his feet! And that he could do!

It was a bad idea… But… That strange mechanic gave him the willies. Something about him was off and Bendy couldn’t help but be a little scared of him. And yet when he had suggested seeing what was in the basement, Bendy couldn’t help but be curious. He’d never been down there. What was so interesting down there? Joey hadn't outright said to not go down there... But he always scooped him up whenever he talked about going down there. He had a lot of time to contemplate that, sitting in various Little Miracle Stations that he kept seeing. There was probably no need to keep sitting in them, but it helped put his mind at ease that he was “hidden” for a few minutes at a time.

After a surprisingly long time, he finally made his way to the lift, waving happily at one of the cut-outs that rested in the corner. Then he’d stretched his arm as much as he could, pressing the giant button that read “14”. That had to be the lowest floor, so that’s where he’d go. As the doors slid shut and the elevator lurched in movement, the little demon rocked back on his heels, gently whistling through his teeth. It was a long ride to the bottom floor, and his neutrality about the whole thing started to give away to fear the longer he was in the contained little space. Joey really, really wouldn’t be happy with him if he found out he’d gone down this way….

He yelped as the elevator jolted to a stop, and slid the doors open. It was… really dark down here. As he stepped out of the elevator, he carefully made his way to the wooden railings, looking down at everything. Given how that mean mechanic Murray described it down here, the demon expected to see various bodies on the floor, or a giant demon! Or even something as scary as Mrs. Hagen down here. Instead, it was ink. SO MUCH INK.

It put his mind at ease seeing that the dangers were manufactured only in his mind, and he started to bound down the stairs. When he hit the ink pooling on the ground, he merely walked on the surface. It made little splashes every time he took a step, but nothing so scary.

He walked down to the hallways, and that’s when he saw what made this so scary. It was a projector head!! It was huge and bulking and he just knew he was going to get chased or crushed in two seconds flat, so he hid behind a beam.

…

The inevitable chase never happened. So Bendy looked around the beam, blinking as he glanced the being over. It looked giant, yes, and even sunk into the ink slightly. But it seemed transfixed on something. So Bendy tried to follow its line of “sight”, and whistled happily when he saw. The projector head was playing a cartoon! HIS cartoon!

Fear forgotten, he walked out behind the beam to stand next to the being. It didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence, but that was fine with Bendy. He simply sat down on the ink, grinning widely as he watched the rest of his cartoon. He sighed as he recognized the events in the short. It was one of the earlier cartoons that was part of his memory, where he had planned on going on a picnic. Course, Boris had to steal his basket and be a big ol’ dumb about it. Even if he got proper revenge by spooking the wolf with soda pop, he’d gotten a little nervous and scared, running off to hide in the tombstones. Probably not the best of ideas in hindsight, given how he didn’t like skeletons.

Bendy stayed seated on the surface of the ink, blinking a little as the cartoon played once more. Did this projector head have only one cartoon? That didn’t seem right.

…

In fact… It was a little…Unsettling the longer he sat next to this thing. It looked a lot like a human… Not an animated one, but a real human like Joey and Mrs. Hagen. If it wasn’t for the projector replacing its head and the thick wires wrapped around it… Then again, humans were like characters from the show. They reacted to someone else coming by and sitting next to them. They did things other than stare at a wall, and by extension, cartoons. Staring up to projector head, Bendy placed his gloved hands on his lap and laced his fingers together while rubbing his thumbs on top of the other. The feeling of unease he had was getting worse the longer he sat there. Something was just…off.

It didn’t help when he noticed something on the front of the creature’s neck.

He jumped to his feet, reaching up and gently touching a bare patch of skin. It was the only spot that wasn’t detrenched or stained with black ink. Not by much, but… That was definitely skin. Not the same color or firmness as his Creator’s; this was a pale brown, almost grey, with dark speckles and firm stubble.

This WAS a human… This was a-…

Oh Sweet Heavens…

Bendy felt thick ink roll down his face in an instant, and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

Suddenly, little things that blurred on the corners of his vision sharpened into surprising clarity. The real-life skeleton he found next to the Ink Machine seemed twice as terrifying. Who was that?! Who’s skeleton was that?? That mean version of Alice… She appeared right after Joey went to “talk” with Mrs. Hagen. Were… Were they the same?? What did that mean for Mr. Wally?? And… All the others….

He didn’t realize he’d started crying until the projector head’s light was trained on him. It was a warm light, but Bendy stayed as still as possible. He didn’t want to be chased… If he stayed still enough, maybe he’d look away… He let his eyes shut, praying that he wouldn’t be run off, not now, please not no-

Thin arms slowly wrapped around him. It wasn’t as warm or enveloping like Joey’s were, or even bone crushing like Boris’s used to be… But it was kind. It was kind and forgiving.

Bendy could’ve melted in those arms right then and there. His tears rolled even faster down his face, and a distressed wail croaked out.

He was so sorry….


End file.
